


In the Family

by shihadchick



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-22
Updated: 2010-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:44:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Dief and dead!Bob having a conversation, "Don't look at me like that." [gen or f/k slash, author's choice] for <a href="http://bluebrocade.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://bluebrocade.livejournal.com/"><b>bluebrocade</b></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluebrocade](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Bluebrocade).



> Thanks, Blue, for an excellent prompt - I actually _dreamed_ about it last night, even. I hope it does justice to what you hoped for. Thanks to Meg and Liz for beta-ing and general awesomeness. (Okay, Liz also pointed out it needed more kissing, so I might add that in later and send it to you specially, O Recipient. :D)

"Don't look at me like that."

Bob Fraser narrowed his eyes at the half-wolf sitting on the opposite side of the corridor, wearing an expression that the uninformed (albeit strictly accurate) would call vulpine, but Bob just called plain discourteous. After all the effort he'd gone to, here. He shook his head sorrowfully and then glared back at Diefenbaker.

"Now, it may not be quite what I was intending, but you have to admit I had the boy's best interests at heart and, well, I'm not going to interfere."

Dief cocked an ear and gave as good as he got, with a low whine that unmistakably implied that he didn't believe a word Bob was saying.

"Well, yes, I admit that Miss Vecchio was actually the one who hung the mistletoe, but you know I would not have been capable of doing so myself. And given your lack of opposable digits I don't see where you would have been any better suited. I'm sure she'll be back here any moment now, too. Besides, Benton seems to have matters well in hand- oh, dear." He glanced down the hall at the silhouette of his son, standing under the sprig of greenery which Francesca had so carefully pinned up hours ago, and realised that rather than tugging his uniform jacket trim or gesturing expressively (just like his mother he was, for that, just like her), he was now putting his capable (not that he'd ever tell the boy that, wouldn't do for him to get all big-headed about things) hands to another use entirely.

Admittedly, this was not exactly the outcome Bob had been anticipating. He'd been expecting a quick partner-to-partner chat, smooth over whatever problem had left Benton stewing in the Consulate for the last three days, picking and unpicking stitches in the Sam Browne he had been mending for Constable Turnbull, and to follow that, a quick spin around the precinct before that nice Miss Vecchio would either manage to snap up Benton at last, or send him running back to the Consulate for a nice cup of tea. Bob had been planning on joining him, and he had an excellent excuse worked out about how the scent of the tree in his office was giving him a headache. Or possibly the light reflecting off the tinsel. Either way, he'd been planning on some quiet family time, either with his son or politely waiting for his son to get a start on the next generation.

Apparently he'd been advancing far in front of his intel on this occasion, because it certainly appeared that Benton had been harbouring some rather more-than-friendly feelings towards his partner.

"Now, Diefenbaker," and he turned a little so he was looking back towards the bullpen where the majority of the 27th Precinct's holiday party was going on, and away from the spectacle of his son doing things he was sure were certainly frowned upon in a public setting. "I'm not saying we shouldn't interrupt them in a minute or two, but perhaps you should be so good as to give them a modicum of privacy."

Diefenbaker merely curled up on the floor and dropped a paw over his eyes to exaggerate how very much _he_ was neither concerned nor looking.

"There's no need for to take that tone with me, Diefenbaker. Just because you claim to have known all along is no reason to gloat."

Bob turned a little further, stealing a glance back up the hall. Benton _did_ look much happier. Then again, if the hard-headed Yank was what his heart was set on, well, Bob could adapt. After all. They were Canadian. They could always adopt.


End file.
